


Wandering Courtesy

by jxkuzure



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Biting, Blow Jobs, Butt Slapping, Cock Rings, Cuckolding, Cunnilingus, Dirty Thoughts, Dry Humping, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Femdom, Friends to Lovers, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Loss of Virginity, Magic, Masturbation, Milking, Morning Sex, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn With Plot, Premature Ejaculation, Pubic Hair, Size Difference, Uncircumcised Penis, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:39:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25760725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jxkuzure/pseuds/jxkuzure
Summary: 「 NSFW | 18+ CONTENT | EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT 」Erik has never had relations with women outside of his sleepy town of Rorikstead, until new settlers begin to move in for the seasonal harvest. The Dragonborn comes for respite in Rorikstead, much to Erik's delight, and new found interest in women.
Relationships: Erik the Slayer/Original Female Character(s), Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Erik the Slayer
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> ★彡 Explicit sexual content between F!Dragonborn and Erik (the Slayer) of Rorikstead ★彡  
> Please take heed towards the tags before continuing further. Will update periodically untill all chapters are posted so please bookmark or subscribe for accurate updates. All characters present are of age unless the NPC is canonically younger (like Sissel and Britte).

Wandering Courtesy

I

* * *

Rorikstead was bustling, not normally so, but with the harvest coming in and a plethora of workers from other Holds and abroad, Erik found himself entertained by the new faces around him. He saw people he’d never thought he’d ever see – Dunmer, Bosmer, and even Imperials, all different sizes, ages, and genders. Some came with families, their belongings packed high onto mares, mules, and carts. Others were battle-hardened Nords with their suspicions melded from years of tension, though pleasant, and never acting upon their ignorance. They all came with ambitious minds and humble hands which Rorikstead needed much so, desperately, as the civil war had begun to take its toll within the Hold.

Whiterun itself had expanded much into the rolling grasslands of the Hold, even holding its own to the grandeur of Solitude. The Jarl, benevolent in his newly found success, did the same for Rorikstead and it was soon teams of experienced crafters came into town. Their inn, the Frostfruit, had been expanded both upwards and across as the years of bountiful harvests and funding from Jarl Balgruuf blessed them to do so. The construction was aided by neighboring carpenters and craftsmen from Whiterun, and as far as Falkreath. The entire town watched in awe as the weeks went by and the inn expanded beautifully.

Inside, the inn was outfitted with much more dining space and expanded firepit. The craftsmen redid the wooden furniture and added much more decoration into the hall. An upstairs had been added which gave more rooms, including Erik’s new bedroom, and more storage. A basement had been outfitted, though Erik doubted his father had put it to use. The most extensive feature of their remodeled inn was the introduction of plumbing. A craftsman who had worked wonders in Markarth, Solitude, and now Rorikstead implanted fillable bathtubs without the need of fetching water. The few rooms outfitted with the tubs were their most expensive, but highly requested. Erik had sneaked several baths in between visiting patrons and grew infatuated with the warm, scented water caressing his body.

Erik’s father, Mralki, was beyond thrilled at the renovated inn and for the first time in many months, Erik saw his father truly in bliss. Their coin flow was tripled, patrons were happy, and Rorikstead grew in reputation. New houses sprouted alongside the road, the farms grew, and livestock was as far as the eye could see, and there was a sense of accomplishment in the air. Rorik, the town’s founder and authority, was overjoyed seeing the fresh faces amongst the population. A town square was constructed, though off the road because of how Rorikstead was settled and merchants opened shop with marvelous items from every corner of Skyrim.

Erik was happy for his father and the town, for the most part, but he knew it would only strengthen his father’s resolve of keeping him in Rorikstead. Erik wanted to branch out in the world, find his path, and ultimately find his fame and fortune, but he didn’t want to anger his father or did he want to abandon his responsibilities within the growing village.

Other than the seasonal workers, there weren’t many strapping young men to perform the manual labor or protect the village from would-be bandits, the occasional wolf, or the looming fear of dragons. Erik was no trained guard or was he a savant with a blade, but he could hold his own with a pitchfork. Should the perilous nature of Skyrim turn up at their unwalled town, Erik wouldn’t stand a chance. The few guards Rorikstead was granted from Whiterun could hold themselves against the wandering wildlife, but their numbers weren’t enough to protect the town from a larger scale raid let alone a dragon attack. The Jarl had promised more carpenters to wall the town in the coming months, but with the Stormcloaks, Imperials, and now dragons encroaching into the hold, it seemed to be a dream away.

Erik watched visitors begin to trickle into the Frostfruit inn which he was promptly called inside by his father. Inside, the crackling flames in the expanded firepit toasted meats of various kinds – beef, chicken, and venison. Ale was being poured and distributed amongst patrons. With the extra coin they’ve generated, his father hired Aine, their newest serving girl. She had traveled as far as Windhelm for the opportunity, though much of her personality was a mystery, at least to Erik. She wasn’t alone as she was accompanied by her mother, father, and several siblings all living in a newly constructed home just on the other side of the inn. Her family was humble and noble in their intentions and Aine was just the same. She was slender for a Nord with blonde, curly hair creeping down her back. Her eyes were lightly-coated with blue-grey speckles and there was a sway when she walked. Her body was supple but toned as many in Skyrim had to be to survive the harshest environments. There was a scar upon her upper brow.

Aine was pleasant, much more jubilant than Erik and his father, and never once was heard with a compliant on her lips. She sang hymns early in the morning when she thought curious ears were deaf. Her cooking was much better than what Mralki could manage. She brought a breath of fresh air into the inn. Often enough, Erik found his gaze upon her whenever she passed, or when she cooked, and scandalously whenever she changed at the end of her workday. He hadn’t experienced women properly or did he have a chance; his father kept him straight and preoccupied with work. Neither was he a pervert or deviant, but simply interested, in a boyish way. Aine was the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen.

Erik greeted his father, then Aine, and the town’s patriarch, Rorik. Nearby, Sissel and Britte was charged with peeling vegetables, their tiny hands making dutiful work rendering the flesh off potatoes and carrots. They chatted excitedly amongst themselves as they worked, seemingly enjoying the craft, much to their father, Lemkil’s keenful eye. Their newest visitors brought along their children; many the same age as the girls, while others younger and spring born. Erik treated the girls as his younger sisters as he was without his own and in return, the girls paraded him like their older brother. Few times in the day Erik was to play with them or braid their hair with ribbons and flowers, much to their father’s disdain, but nevertheless, the trio kept each other entertained in the sleepy town. He did wish their father treated them better, but the girls seemed to thrive regardless. Erik sat down at the bar’s counter as his father retrieved more flagons from the shelves.

“Don’t just sit there, lad, help me pour these drinks.”, Mralki chastised. “You see how busy we are.”

The young Nord did as he was told and got up to start filling the flagons at the nearby mead tap. As quickly as the flagons were filled, they were taken and downed by thirsty mouths. The coin flowed and the flagons remained filled for many hours as Erik sweated and served. Aine was singing again as patrons called for her, often with promises of marriage, or their insatiable need for cool ale. She entertained them all the same with her glittering smile and otherworldly charm. Erik found himself distracted by her gravitating around the inn until his father had barked at him to continue his work. The patrons didn’t shuffle out the inn till the early hours of the morning after all the ale could be drunk, the food eaten, and stories told. Erik was beyond weary and Aine seemed to struggle keeping awake. They cleaned as much as they could before their energy was tapered.

His father was first to retire for bed as with his advanced age, he couldn’t keep up the stamina like Aine and Erik had. They both wished the innkeeper a good night before they themselves did the same. Aine was to return home for the evening. Erik couldn’t muster the courage or tame the fluttering butterflies in his stomach to ask should she want an escort home, though her family’s home was no longer than an half-hour’s walk from the inn, but Erik was chivalrous by nature. He simply wished her a farewell and became flustered when she kissed his cheek on the way out.

Upstairs and back into his bedroom, Erik was alone with his feelings warming the pit of his stomach. Even as he dressed for bed did he feel the tinges of excitement blooming between his legs. It was embarrassing as Erik was a man grown, but with the feelings of a rutting teenager. As Aine was employed by his father, he didn’t want his lust to affect their relationship or hinder her employment in anyway. However, he was still a man with pressing wants and idle hands.

Sheepishly, he pawed at his erection with wandering thoughts of women, not Aine in particular, but a visage of women he’d imagined elsewhere. He’d seen Nordic women, strong and tall like great oaks. He’d knew of Breton women with their shorter statures and soft bodies. He even knew of Altmer women like Reldith with their high cheekbones and sculpted legs.

He imagined breasts, supple, soft, and warm underneath his calloused hands. He visualized his lips leaving kisses onto them, or his tongue lashing and lapping at sensitive nubs. His lustful thoughts pictured how his manhood would feel encased around warm globes of flesh.

He then began to imagine what women had underneath their bottoms as his hands grasped and tugged his manhood. His fingers rolled the foreskin downwards as the cool air made it jerk. Then did he pump frantically with warm fluids drooling between his fingers. He grazed his fingernail onto the slit of his cock earning himself a shiver down his spine. He fell face forward into his bed with his hips buckling and humping into the sheepskin underneath him. He muted his moans into his pillow, still awfully cautiously of the ears that could be listening and began to taste his own sweat dribbling down his face.

He couldn’t conjure what a woman’s sex looked like, but he thought of it as a warm crevice enrapturing his cock. He was grinding his sex as much as he could into his bedding and the friction gave him some relief. He felt himself nearly at the precipice of an orgasm as his balls felt heavy and constricted against his body. The pleasure was immeasurable, and he couldn’t help but curl his toes. His cock was hot in his hands a few jerks later he was spilling onto the sheepskin and a shudder planted him into the bed. His cum pooled into a warmed lake as his cock lazily spurted. Sweat breaded his brow and drenched the hair trailing off his shoulders.

It was many moments later did he get up again to clean his body and change the sheepskin. He changed into looser, thinner clothes as he was still flushed from his nightly ministrations. Combined with his fatigue, sleep was peaceful, and Erik was blissfully dreaming with warmness still present in his stomach.


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik grows familiar with the stables just as the Dragonborn arrives in Rorikstead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit content warning! Mentions of cuckoldry! Stable sex (?). Virginity lost.
> 
> 2 out of 4 chapters of this (seemingly) long one-shot. I proof-read and formatted to the best of my ability, but like always, there is bound to be a mistake or two.

II

* * *

The morning was quiet saved for the clattering of dishes and flagons downstairs. Erik woke pleasantly as a cool breeze from the grasslands rolled in from his window. He stretched and flexed his muscles and took inventory of his bedding. Though he had changed it last night, there was darkening spots within the sheepskin, either his own making or sweat. Either way, they would be washed and hung to dry outside. He redressed into his tunic and trousers, washed, and braided his hair, and outfitted his feet into warm cowhide boots. Erik took his soiled linens with him downstairs and his father was busy wiping down tables. His father spotted him with his linen but continued with his cleaning.

Outside, the seasonal workers were off to their labor as the many fields of wheat, corn, fruits, and vegetables were heavy with bounties. Erik took in the morning air just as he spotted Sissel and Britte carrying their little woven baskets alongside the other children. They were happy as their round faces couldn’t help but keep a smile. In turn, it made Erik smile as he walked down the inn’s steps and towards the back end. He laid his linen out and went to retrieve water from the well. He tugged and hoisted up water to fill the bin then added lye into the mix. Rolling up his sleeves, Erik began the often-tedious nature of washing linens against the metal, ribbed sheet within the washing bin. He was preoccupied with his chore that he didn’t hear or see Aine coming up nearby. He looked up when the sun above him was over casted by shadow. His mouth hung open a bit as Aine was there, dressed in her flowy spring dress, holding her own linen at her hip.

“Good morning.”, she greeted. “Mind if I join you?”

Erik couldn’t seem to bring the words up from his throat, but he did nod. Aine smiled and sat her linen down besides Erik. She went to bring another washing bin and filled the tub in a mixture of lye, spring flowers, and fruit rinds. Erik kept his focus on scrubbing his linens, but he was blushing as Aine was beginning her own chores.

“Wait, Aine, let me bring you some water—“, Erik suggested, stopping his washing just as Aine was about to leave again.

She smiled and Erik was quick to fetch her water from the well. He filled her washing bin and nearly exploded with the butterflies brewing in his stomach. Aine was quicker when it came to washing linens as she expertly brought her hands up and down against the washing board. Though Erik only had his sheepskins to wash, Aine had her family’s linens, and possible others’ linens as well. Her breasts rose and descended with every stroke and Erik felt the familiar warmness return. He bit his inner cheek and forced himself to continue his chore. His knuckles felt raw from the scrubbing, but the pain was a needed distraction for his wandering eyes.

Once he felt his sheepskins was clean enough, he brought to a nearby clothesline and hung them up to dry in the warming spring air. As he was pinning them up, he couldn’t help but feels eyes on the back of his neck.

Much to his surprise, Aine was looking at him with friendly eyes. Erik smiled nervously and turned around. A breeze passed between them, but the heat remained on Erik. He dried his hands off on his tunic and Aine looked back down to her linens. He saw the tinges of pink flush her cheeks and he found the courage to clear his throat and sit down next to her. Aine, of course, looked at him with her same, familial look, but Erik couldn’t bring himself to words.

“Is there something wrong, Erik?”, she asked, stroking the linen between her hands downwards. “Are you getting sick?”

“No, no, I’m just exhausted that’s all.”, he smoothly lied. “The work from last night still has me a bit tired.”

“I feel the same.”, Aine replied, finishing up what she was washing. She rose to bring the wet linen to a section of clothesline. “It’s hard work what we do here.”

“Honest work.”, Erik attempted at conversation. “Really, it is.”

Aine softly chuckled as she hung up the wet linen.

Erik watched her and felt the heat intensify as the longer he stared at her, the more of her physicality he noticed. Though her dress was of a modest length, the fabric was very much sheer as he could make the outline of her bottom and legs. It was a very feminine shape with curves descending downwards towards her thighs. From the side, Erik could make out the shape of her breasts, heavy, but not with age. The nipple seemed to strain against the fabric. Her bodice was strung tightly to her frame, but it was her entirety Erik felt gravitated to.

Aine turned around and caught Erik’s hungry stare which made her instinctively cover herself with folded arms. The Nord chastised himself as he shot his eyes downwards to the grass underneath him. For several, harrowing moments he counted the many seconds it took for Aine to run away, or scream, or better yet hit him, but none of those things happened. Rather, Aine lowered her arms and came back to sit next to Erik.

“You know it’s not proper to stare at a lady.”, she began to chastise Erik, eyeing him how he ripened bright red. “Especially when she’s not looking.”

“I’m sorry, Aine.”, Erik apologized feeling how his eyes began to water. “I didn’t know how to tell you that I’m…”

“Interested in me?”, she quietly whispered, her fingers intertwined in her lap. “or what’s underneath my skirts—”

“I am.”, Erik cuts her off, finding himself on the urge to run. “But, I didn’t want to assume you felt the same.”

“Would you like to…hmm…”, Erik felt embarrassed to ask the impossible. “Do you think you would want to…”

“Are you asking do I want to lay with you, Erik of Rorikstead?”, Aine finished the request for him, her nervousness seeming to be nonexistent. “Or are you trying to ask me do I want to be your wife?”

“We’re far too young for marriage.”, Erik jested, feeling his own anxiousness lift into cheerfulness. “But, yes…May I lay with you?”

Aine laughed and tucked her hair behind her ears. Erik watched her as her lips parted into another smile, before she began to look around them. They were alone, for the most part, as the harvest workers were far away in the fields. Other townspersons weren’t in earshot, and the children joined their parents as they harvested. Their only company was the livestock with the goats bleating and the cows crunching away at the soft grass under their hooves.

The washing area was secluded behind the inn with the courtesy of the stable holding the guardsmen horses. The guards themselves lingered at the outskirts of Rorikstead with their furtively packed wineskins hidden underneath their scaled armor. Neither of them spoke of their seclusion from the rest of the villagers, but the thought was prevalent between the both of them. Aine rose with her hand stretched out towards Erik. The Nord hesitated, but hesitation was thrown out the window as the heat was intense and the swelling of his manhood urged him otherwise.

“Well come on, Erik of Rorikstead.”, Aine teased. “Or your father will call you back inside.”

They snuck off into the stable and made sure to cover their tracks. Inside, the stables smelled of hay, horse, and spices. Straw littered the packed dirt underneath their boots. The stable was pleasantly warm as it was only morning and the blistering sun wasn’t high up just yet. There was but a half dozen stallions kept within the stable, with more spaces designated for other animals such as the oxen and sheep. Erik hadn’t visited the stable since construction as many of the animals seemed apathetic to their arrival.

Aine led them both into an empty stall outfitted with a pile of hay. It was relatively clean as the stall hadn’t been occupied by an animal, but it would make do. Erik was the first to fall to his knees with Aine joining him. They were giggling excitedly with their roving hands finding each other’s laces and straps. Erik was inexperienced in disrobing as his hands clumsily tried to find the laces of Aine’s bodice, but she seemed more adept in finding his laces. He was soon undressed from the bottom down with her hovering on him. She was beyond beautiful and Eric brought himself to drink in her physique. Her breasts hung out of her bodice and tentatively, Erik reached to free them from underneath the fabric.

Round mounds of flesh touched his own chest as Aine laid soft kisses upon Erik’s brow. Erik’s hands found respite on the curves of her waist as he fell in love with the softness of her affections. Her lips found his and it tasted of berries and honey. The kiss longed into a hungry swallow as it was Erik who took the lead and had Aine settle into his lap. Underneath her breeches did he begin to feel for her, awkwardly, as he had no insight into her anatomy. The many skirts of her dressed became a labyrinth as his hands could only feel so much. However, Aine seemed to understand where he was searching for and wiggled free from the constricting garment. Now being clothed only under her skirts was Erik free to grope the warmed, saturated sex between his lover’s legs.

It was exhilarating as Erik felt Aine’s sex – the lips spreading upon the arrival of his fingers caressing the slit of her entrance. The soft, sparse hair shielding her sex tickled his fingers as he explored. She, in turn, sighed and relaxed into his lap with her breasts pressed against his flushed chest. Her face was turned into the crook of his shoulder and Erik was straining himself against his trousers. Yet, his fingers couldn’t stop roving Aine’s wet crevice, soaking in luscious juices far sweeter than any fruit picked just outside. With a rather forceful jerk, Erik felt his fingers enraptured in the burning heat he’d always imagine. Aine’s legs tightened at his sides as she bucked forward. Erik took that as intuition to continue his attack as fingers slid in, and out, in, and out till eventually, Aine was bowed inward into his lap. Her soft moans were drowned out by the bellowing of oxen nearby, but Erik heard her loud and clear. His own wanting need was pressed and beginning to curve against his stomach. Aine made him withdraw from her as she fixed herself upon him.

Her smile was still there, but more widen and possessed by lust. She eyed how Erik’s cock was desperate to be handled and she did what Erik was begging for with his eyes. She obliged him and her fingers expertly groped the flesh, earning a strangled grunt from Erik. The Nord could hardly piece words together as Aine was jerking him, soft at first, before quickening her pace and grip. Erik laid back onto the makeshift straw palette beneath them and sighed. Aine’s other hand weighed his balls and flicked the sensitive flesh there. Her breasts interested Erik the most as he reached for them. He gently grasped a nipple and began to caress it between his fingers. They were remarkably soft, almost delicate, and a far different texture than what a cow’s udder felt like.

His lover cried, as gentle as the breeze, as his grasp became a hungry pinch. Erik drew his hand back as Aine winced, but she gestured for him to return his exploration. He did, but remaining gentle and rolling her puckered nipple between his thumbpad. He was close as Aine’s ministrations were bringing him to the familiar, pooling heat rummaging his lower half.

“Aine…”, Erik gasped, feeling his toes curl in his boots. “I’m going to…”

“Please do.”, Aine urged him on, making her peace unrelentless.

Erik did what he was told and his cum dribbled from the head of his cock in thick, lazily blobs. It trailed down his meat and into Aine’s grip as she gave him a few more pumps, a squeeze to his balls, and a flick across his slit. Her face was flushed snowberry red just as Erik’s face had contorted into pleasure. He struggled to catch his breath. Aine released him to bring her hand back to pawing her own sex – the musk of them both blending into the smells of the stable.

Erik needed to feel that heat steaming from her womanly crevice with his own sex. He got up back onto his knees and went forward towards Aine, encasing her form underneath his, and his cock hung dangerously off him. She accepted their position by hooking her legs behind his hips, bringing him in close, and settling underneath him. They looked at each other with loving eyes before Erik bent down to steal a kiss from her reddened lips.

“I’ve never done this before.”, Erik confessed. “I don’t think I know how.”

Aine pressed her lithe linger against his lips as she used her other hand to guide him towards her moistened sex. The insertion was heavenly, and it left both him and her sighing in unison. What Erik imagined was not near what he felt as his cock slid into her dripping cunt with relative ease. He made sure to be at a comfortable angle as he held Aine underneath her buttocks. The pace was unsure, almost nervous as Erik made shallow strokes within her. A few times he ended up disengaged from her which his lover brought him back inside.

Aine guided him with her hands glued to his ass, guiding him to piston forward, and she too seemed eager to meet his strokes. His confidence grew and his strokes became true. In and out, Erik set the pace according to his lust. Aine’s moans quickened his resolve as her sex was gripping, massaging, and stroking his cock to near completion. She snaked one of her hands back to her sex to rub frenzied, lustful circles onto her folds. The image happening below him was something dreams were made from – far better than what he could picture himself or read about in the many dirty pamphlets his father peddled from local merchants.

As he was about to reach climax, he caught himself and quickly withdrew from within her. Aine gave out a frustrated sigh but she was dragged further towards Erik with one swift movement. Lifting her skirts up to her belly, Erik began to massage his cock to fruition upon the mound of pearly hair her sex sported. The friction proved to be too much, and Erik came again – more thick globs of his cum painting her pubic hair almost snow white. Aine smiled from ear to ear as she watched Erik rub himself soft onto her. Erik laughed sheepishly as he was quick to find his trousers again as Aine laid upon the straw pile.

His cheeks burned so hot he was sure he looked like an angry troll.

However, Aine was blissfully patient as Erik redressed and tiptoed out the stall – retrieving a fresh, unused rag and wettened it in a nearby trough. He brought it to Aine and in one graceful motion, rose and took the rag. She began to wash away Erik’s cooling cum off her sex and wiped between her thighs. Erik gave her back her bodice and she redressed. He was sad to see her bountiful cleavage masked behind the constrictive bodice, but he was warmed with the idea that he could see them at another time.

“Thank you.”, he said towards Aine, lacing up his trousers to his waist. “I mean, thank you for your companionship.”

Aine brushed her fair hair back behind her ears and smirked.

“No, I should thank you.”, she counterargued. “It’s been some time for me.”

Erik raised an eyebrow as he continued to redress. Aine rose up to pick the straw out of her hair and off her dress. She had only moved to Rorikstead a few weeks ago, so he had assumed she hadn’t had a lover since moving here, which undoubtedly made his ego flare a bit.

“How long?”, he asked innocently. “Not too long, I hope.”

“A few months, perhaps since Morning Star.”, Aine had stepped out the stall to return the rag into a nearby bucket. “Ever since my husband left for the Reach.”

Erik felt the wind knocked out of his chest as he gaped at Aine. She seemed oblivious to his shock, more or less, as she looked around the stable. The oxen had quieted and the horses softly neighed and dragged their hooves along the packed dirt. The revelation hit him like a warhammer to the chest. He didn’t think Aine was of the marrying age, or did he think she was married, and he felt gutted. He wasn’t in love with her or should be in love with him, but he felt like he committed the worst sin there was. He gulped and shuffled out the stall just as Aine turned around to wrap her arms around him.

“Don’t worry, Erik.”, she suggested. “He’s long since buried.”

He couldn’t help but worry; he slept with another man’s wife, a widow at that. Mara spited unfaithful lovers all the time with unsightly poxes and woes. He didn’t want to be cursed, or have his manhood riddled with sores for sleeping with a widow. His arousal soured like goat’s milk as he untangled himself from Aine. He felt too much at unease to go for another round. Aine seemed confused but understanding as she came to the realization.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve told you.”, she confessed, keeping her stare elsewhere but on Erik. “It was the heat of the moment, and you looked like you needed it.”

The damage had been done. Erik couldn’t take back what had occurred between him and Aine, but he didn’t have to continue with their sexual encounters. He didn’t regret it, however, as Aine gave him the gift of knowing a woman, something he would’ve never gotten in Rorikstead had she not been here.

“No, no, it’s fine.”, Erik said, finding that the oxen had not enough straw into their stall. He went for a nearby pitchfork and began to shovel straw in from a pile stacked up high. He needed the distraction for a moment to gather his resolve. “Just didn’t think you were married.”

“The marriage was short. Only half a year.”, Aine leaned against the stall door, watching Rorikstead from outside the window. Her light-colored hair had tumbled into rustled, sweaty coils. “My parents wanted a guaranteed future for me and thought a soldier’s salary was safe enough.”

The oxen seemed delighted with the fresh straw as they chomped happily away the more Erik shoveled in for them. He sat the pitchfork aside and rubbed his hands together. He went for the trough to wet his hands.

“They were right for a time, until the steward wrote to me how Kjorn died.”, Aine continued. “Forsworn overran their camp in the night and slaughtered them.”

Erik felt a prang of sorrow tighten in his gullet as he listened. He couldn’t imagine losing someone he loved especially in a heinous way. He thought of his father, Mralki, and his kid-sisters Sissel and Britte, and it strengthened his desire to not only learn swordsmanship, but to protect Rorikstead from the same fate that befell Kjorn and Aine. He came to Aine and left a kiss onto her cheek.

“Again, thank you.”, he said again as he earned another smile from his lover. “And I’m sorry for your husband.”

“Thank you, that means a lot—“

Just as him and Aine were to part ways, the stable door flung open which startled them both. From the entrance, his father and Ennis wrangled with a rather large, chestnut colored stallion heaving and refusing to enter the stable. Erik quickly went to his father’s side to coach the huge beast of a horse into an open stall. Aine was taken back by the sheer strength it took to wrangle the stallion into the stall. The stallion had twice the brawn, but thrice the anger as it left deep crevices into the dirt from dragging hooves. Mralki and Ennis was panting by the time the horse was secured safely. Erik felt himself becoming winded.

“Father, who’s horse is this?”, Erik asked, catching his breath. “It has the strength of a giant.”

“Didn’t you hear, lad?”, Mralki asked, pointing to the horse. “The Dragonborn is here.”

Erik looked at his father with wide, unbelieving eyes just as Aine did. They looked at each other, then back to Mralki, then to the horse.

“The Dragonborn…?”, Aine asked, her familiar giddiness returning to her face. “Is he really?”

“He is, yes.”, Ennis suggested as he pointed outside to the growing crowd at the road.

Erik felt like a comet had just struck him as he’d only heard tales about the Dragonborn’s exploits. He had fought dragons as big as forts, tackled brigands, and kept the evilest of necromancers at bay. Erik was immensely envious of the Dragonborn as he must’ve all sorts of adventures from every corner of Skyrim. In the midst of his starstruck daze, his father had begun toe eye his appearance suspiciously.

“Erik.”, Mralki said with his tone all too familiar to the many times Erik was in trouble. “Why were you in the stable?”

He looked to Aine, by all means, enthralled with the idea the Dragonborn had arrived to town and escaped the stable. Ennis was right behind her leaving only Erik, his father, and the agitated stallion in the stable.

Erik looked to his father in disbelief.

“The oxen needed more straw.”, Erik pointed to the pitchfork and disheveled pile of straw in the stable. “That’s all.”

Mralki didn’t believe his son, but he couldn’t prove he was up to something else while Aine was with him. Rather, he coldly stared at his son and ushered him to join the rest of Rorikstead outside. Erik did as he was told with a swell of pride in getting away with his rendezvous swelling in his chest. Eventually his father would piece together the evidence, but until then, Erik took it as a small victory.

Outside, Rorikstead bustled with cheers, gasps, and the sounding of drums just as the Dragonborn, presumably walked up the pathway towards the Frostfruit inn. He was tall, taller than any Nord Erik had ever seen and armored down to the teeth. He had a sword that was longer than Erik’s arm strapped to his hip and a shield strapped to his forearm. He was bald with many wrinkles rippling around his eyes and on his forehead. Battle-scarred and tempered, the Dragonborn was intimidating in physique and personality. His eyes were of a pale grey and battle-hardened with the many years of experience he must’ve gathered from fighting bandits, trolls, and even dragons. He carried a large chest onto his back which must’ve mustered the strength of at least three men, but the Dragonborn seemed unphased carrying such a load. Erik and his father was quick to meet the Dragonborn on the steps of the inn. Rorik was soon to join the with his great belly heaving from exertion.

“Dragonborn, it is a great honor for you to visit our village.”, Mralki greeted, stepping aside to show the Dragonborn the inn’s door. “Please, stay and let us feast in your honor.

The Dragonborn laughed heartily, even more so to the point he was brought to tears. He began to unstrap the chest from off his back as he laughed. Erik stood there quite dumbfounded, as did his father, and Rorik, and all of Rorikstead. The Dragonborn howled for a few moments before catching his breath and stopped, wiping a tear away with his armored hand, and stepping aside.

“Aye, I’m afraid I’m not the Dragonborn.”, the man confessed. “But she is.”

The man pointed off to the side and all the eyes of Rorikstead followed his arm. To the right, another horse straddled by a smaller rider came from the road. The horse seemed to be negligent to the rider’s commands as she seemed to struggle wrestling the horse to follow her guide. The horse stopped abruptly and nearly had the rider thrown forward off it. However, the rider maintained herself in the saddle.

Whispers and gasps bloomed from Rorikstead’s denizens as the rider disembarked from the horse and walked up the cobbled pathway to the inn. The presumed Dragonborn grinned from ear to ear as the woman, dressed in layered robes, stood beside him. Erik hadn’t seen someone so short, except for Sissel and Britte, and surely not someone dressed in such robes. The woman lowered her hood and revealed long, silky locks of black hair trailing down her back. Her face was small and proper with eyes stained a dark topaz, and lips painted glossy red. There was scars along her jaw and down to her neck, and her skin was bronzed olive. She was naturally beautiful, and Erik couldn’t help but smile towards her.

Nearby, Erik caught Aine beside her family and saw her equally dumbfounded gaze upon the reveal that the taller man was not the Dragonborn, but in fact it was the smaller, robed woman. He watched her murmur something to her parents, then to her eldest brother, before finally meeting Erik’s gaze. Erik shrugged her shoulders and Aine returned to speaking to her brother. Ennis and other townspeople went to stable her horse as the Dragonborn seemed quite wary of the rest of them staring at her. She straightened up and looked to what Erik presumed to be her escort. Her lips moved but neither Erik, his father, or Rorik their patriarch could make out what she was saying.

Her escort, however, nodded and beamed a smile.

“Fret not, innkeeper, as the Dragonborn would like to buy you and all of Rorikstead a drink on her!”, he bellowed. “Drinks and a feast!”

The townspeople cheered and jeered as the escort turned to the Dragonborn who raised her hood up again. Erik found it quite odd as she was supposedly the Dragonborn, a hero of legend, but she shielded her appearance from everyone but her escort. He made note of it as the Dragonborn and her escort approached the inn’s porch. Dwarfed by her escort, Erik cowered underneath the older Nord’s shadow. From his armored gauntlet came a hefty pouch which Erik possessed with two hands. His father’s eyes expanded twicefold just as he claimed the gold pouch in his son’s hands.

A few men lifted and heaved the chest the armored escort had unequipped and Erik stepped aside to allowed them into the inn. As the Dragonborn passed, Erik was sure he smelled honeysuckle off her robes. Her escort, on the other hand, smelled of musk and iron. He crinkled his nose as he watched them settle inside the tavern hall.

His father prodded him to go inside the inn as the work for the day was to continue. He did what he was told just as Aine joined himself inside and wrapped an apron around her waist.

“Well, Erik of Rorikstead.”, Aine said, tying up her hair as she prepared. “The Dragonborn has come.”

“Aye.”, Erik was pulling out chairs from the storeroom, and positioning them around the firepit. He would need to lower the banners from upstairs. “I hope we have enough flagons.”

“I’m sure we do, or your father might start letting us drink from the mead tap.”, she joked.

Patrons began to flood in just as his father took his posting at the counter. The Frostfruit Inn was filled to the brim as the Dragonborn was given a seat nearest to the bar and her escort took his seat at the firepit. All of Rorikstead was within their inn with ale being poured, meat and vegetables being brought to the fire, and an accompanying bard stringing his lute. Music flooded in just as the clattering of flagons and forks.

Erik and Aine worked as a team getting mead passed around along with keep everyone’s bellies full. Through their passes, Aine would touch Erik, sometimes on the arm, or sneakily to his buttocks, just as Erik did the same with Aine. They weren’t suspected by the many eyes present in the Frostfruit inn, especially not his father as he was infatuated with charming the Dragonborn and her escort. Rorik faded into the background as he settled for his ale.

When Erik caught a glance at the Dragonborn, she was looking at him just as Aine had looked to him before, but with less interest, and more caution. Even cascaded by warm light, her face sparkled from her coverings. He stopped in his tracks with a flagon gripped in his hand just as the Dragonborn was sipping upon her flagon. She seemed not to be a fan of the ale as she abandoned it moments later in favor for a request of water. Erik was the one to fulfill her wish as he gave the flagon to Jouane, seemfully drunk and merry, and brought water to the Dragonborn.

She thanked him with a curt smile and watched the festivities around her. As patrons received their bounty of ale and food, Aine escaped to enjoy her family at the other side of the inn just as Mralki allowed Erik relief from serving duty. Unhindered by his work, Erik mustered the courage to approach the Dragonborn. He wanted to know about the Dragonborn – her travels, her expertise, and quite possibly a way to leave Rorikstead.

He sat down on the other side of her much to her caution. She stopped eating just to face Erik as he was nervous enough talking to women, especially a woman of her position. After all, she had the power of Akatosh running through her veins, and he was simply an innkeeper’s son. He folded his hands politely into his lap and straightened up – the few manners his father strapped into him.

“Hello, Dragonborn.”, Erik introduced himself. “I am Erik, and I’d like to thank you for all you are doing to save the world.”

The Dragonborn smiled but shielded it partially behind her sleeve. Her eyes crinkled in appreciation, but she seemed to be bashful. He could hardly make out her face underneath the hood. Erik watched her with a lump forming in his throat. He hadn’t thought he offended her, but she didn’t seem willingly to conversate besides the pleasantries. He caught the glare of her escort on the back of his neck which only added to his fear. However, the Dragonborn shot an equally hot glare back to her escort which signaled him to return to his drinking and merrymaking. Erik sighed in relief and felt some pressure alleviate off his shoulders.

“You don’t have to call me Dragonborn.”, she said, her voice light and willowy. Her accent was from a place far from here. “You may call me Bethany.”

Erik eagerly nodded at the reveal of the Dragonborn’s name. She lowered her sleeve and brought her arm down to her lap. On quick examination of her robes, he assumed she was a mage, or at least affiliated with the Mage’s College. Yet, the stitchwork and colored fabrics was nothing he had seen a mage wear here in Skyrim. The robe was loose and layered, but even underneath the layers, Erik could eye her figure. She looked to be soft, but knew better that she must’ve been toned with the amount of battles she had been in. The scars she had on her face weren’t old, but fairly new, which meant she could hold her own for the most part. Erik took inventory of it all as the Dragonborn watched the townspeople dance and feast.

He was interested on where she hailed from, as she wasn’t a Nord or raised in Skyrim but someplace far, foreign, and much more interesting than Rorikstead. She had to be a Breton with such a short stature, Erik concluded. He wondered if she was from High Rock, or even Cyrodill. Anywhere that wasn’t Rorikstead interested Erik.

His father came by to offer another flagon of ale which the Dragonborn declined in favor for her goblet filled with water. Erik, reached for the flagon, much to his father’s disdain. Erik downed the flagon in one large heartily gulp which earned him small claps from the Dragonborn. He blushed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Sorry.”, he apologized. “Forgot my manners.”

“It’s okay, Erik of Rorikstead.”, Bethany said with her smile gleaming. “This is a tavern after all.”

“Aye, it is.”

Slowly, but surely the Dragonborn lowered her hood till Erik could fully appreciate her face. Her cheeks kept a rosy tinge to them, perhaps because of cosmetics, but they beamed with youth. Her lips always stayed pouted, almost like she kept a leash upon her thoughts. Her eyebrows were relaxed, though few instances Erik saw them furrow. He was sure to categorize her looks, in case a wandering bard or poet commissioned him for his recollection of the famed Dragonborn. She ate modestly with a preference for bread and water – something Erik had heard trained warriors did to keep their strength, and to avoid unwanted spoils in the midst of battle. He began taking notes as he sat with the Dragonborn.

The revelry lasted most of the night with Erik chatting up a storm with the Dragonborn, who, for the most part, tried to answer the numerous questions he brought her way. He practically forgotten he was speaking to the legendary hero as she was patient and accommodating to his questions. Her insight was immensely useful to Erik as he absorbed much of what she told him.

At one occasion, he caught Aine’s gaze from upon the inn and he interpreted as envy, but her attention was stolen away as the singing bard began to dedicate his song to her. The bard was rather handsome, an Imperial with greased dark hair and a curly beard. His fingers strung the lute diligently and his voice was pleasant to the ear. She was swooning by the song’s end and as suave as the bard’s honeyed lyrics were, Erik expected no less for Aine and him to find privacy. It wasn’t often Rorikstead had celebrations, or feasts, and the townspeople needed to relieve their humble selves once in a while. He wasn’t scorned or made jealous by the scene as him and Aine only shared a single lay. He was not bound to her and vice versa.

The Dragonborn noticed and shielded her soft laughter.

“Is she a friend of yours?”, she questioned, pointing her dainty, gloved finger towards Aine. “Your lover, perhaps?”

Erik felt flustered as the Dragonborn interrogated him, but Aine was nothing but that. They were friends, and his father employed her. They had a rendezvous, that was all, and upon remembrance, Erik could imagine he smelled of sex and musk. It was embarrassing to say the least, as he was in the presence of the hero of Skyrim, the eventual slayer of Alduin the World-Eater, and he was dirtied like the pigs outside. He shuffled his feet under the table and did his best to bounce around the Dragonborn’s prying stare.

“It’s quite alright. Skyrim is a harsh place and I think it needs more lovers.”, the Dragonborn caught her escort in the arms of a woman urging him to dance with her. “Gunthar, my escort, is an example.”

Erik laughed and watched Gunthar and the townswoman dance and sway at the rising crescendo of the bard’s lute followed by the drums thundering throughout the inn. The escort was gargantuan, but light on his feet as he swung the townsman around like she was a paperweight. He looked back to the Dragonborn to find her yawning.

Erik could imagine how weary she was from her travels – the spring heat was often unforgiving on long journeys.

“Your suite is ready should you want to retire, milady.”, Erik suggested, pointing to the staircase nearby. “Should I run a bath for you?”

“That’s sweet of you, Erik of Rorikstead.”, Bethany said. “I’ll be fine.”

“Goodnight, Dragonborn.”

The Dragonborn left the tavern hall without an eyelash battered her way. She moved as sneakily as she had approached just outside. She practically floated up the stairs. Erik wondered how she could move so quietly, but he guessed with her exploring dungeons and ruins taught her the many skills he hoped to learn from her. He was kept up longer to attend to the declining needs of the townspeople. Most had left upon the hour growing late, just like Aine’s family did, and eventually her as she was being escorted away by the suave Imperial bard. Erik wished her and him a goodnight, just as she promised she would take care of his chores in return of leaving with the bard.

Erik and his father stayed up to the wee hours to clean the flagons, plates, and bowls left in the wake of the dozens of Rorikstead’s townspeople left from their gut-busting feast. They were elbow deep in scrubbing dishes, but Erik felt invigorated. Mralki, on the other hand, grimaced at their immense amount of dishes, but didn’t utter a compliant towards his son. His son was much faster in washing, drying, and storing the dishes, then continued with wiping the tables and freshening up the burning firepit.

His father tired quickly and retired to bed, but Erik was still wide-eyed and hungry for more information from the Dragonborn. There wasn’t much left to clean other than returning the excess chairs to the storeroom, yet he couldn’t move them around with the Dragonborn resting upstairs. He dared not to disturb her, or her lumbering escort, and he reluctantly retired to his own room. He undressed, bathed the remnants of himself and Aine off him, and redressed into lighter pajamas. He was to go straight to bed, but he couldn’t help but to pace up and down the hallway. Barefoot on the cool wooden planks, Erik was practically silent as he shuffled around. His mind was racing a hundred different questions he was going to ask the Dragonborn in the morning.

As he paced excitedly, he heard the nosily gurgle of the pipes torrenting water from the suite room nearby. Erik remembered that the Dragonborn was most likely going to bathe, and he didn’t think he left any sheepskin for her to dry off with. He crept downstairs and into the storeroom to retrieve a much fresher sheepskin than what they had in the other rooms. Back up the steps, he padded to the suite and knocked gingerly upon the door. He heard the pipes cease their gurgitation, and soft footsteps thumping on the wooden floor. The locks turned and squeaked until Erik saw the little Dragonborn peek her face from the doorway.

She was much different than earlier with her blackened hair braided down to her waist, and her robes now stripped from her short frame. Her lips were absent of their carmine coloring, and her fresh scars had been dressed in salve. Her eyes, once darkened topaz, gleamed almost gold as in the darkness of the inn, they appeared to be like torches. A short, silvery chain gleamed from her neck as a pendant rested between her covered bosom. Erik stood in the doorway with the sheepskin tucked in his arms and a smile creasing his face.

“I thought you may have needed something to dry yourself.”, he said quietly. “I didn’t think you had any.”

The Dragonborn opened the door wider and revealed herself to Erik. As short as she was, her presence did demand attention. Erik found himself looking down to the Dragonborn as she was only as tall as his torso. He bent down to give her the sheepskin and she took it, putting it aside on a nearby chair. She looked behind her to see Erik gaping at her, for good reasons, as she was stark naked except for her chest. Her body was curved like a Redguard’s scimitar. There was healing scars up and down her frame, though bandaged and attended to, and there was richly coarse hair running from her belly button down into the gap of her thighs. Etched ink tattooed the flesh of her lower back with symbols Erik had never seen before.

Erik felt his throat dry up the longer he stared at her. She feigned her smile behind the braid tumbling down her back and thick as Erik snapped his gaze away and turned around. She returned to the doorway and closed the door until it was only her face in the view.

“Goodnight, milady.”, Erik said, walking away with his cheeks burning.

“Goodnight, Erik of Rorikstead.”, her whisper tickled the shell of his ear as he returned to his room.

Once safely inside, the familiar heat brewing between his legs returned and he sated it with frantic grinding and humping of his cock into his bed. He couldn’t burn the image of the Dragonborn in her partially naked glory out of his mind and it lingered like a thick haze. His release was quick, almost painful, and he buried his face into his pillow. He didn’t bother to clean up as he still had sheepskins left outside needing to be washed, dried, and put away. He fell asleep even more flustered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like always, thanks for the support and make sure to leave a kudos, bookmark, and a comment. Look at my profile for my other social media. Stay safe, wash your damn hands, and continue to be good people.


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dragonborn shares her tales with Erik along with a very special area of expertise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proof-read and formatted best to my ability. Word and AO3 do not get along with me.

III

* * *

Erik woke up late, later than he would’ve liked, and to his father’s criticisms. He dressed in fresh clothes and didn’t attempt to combat his wild locks. Instead, he went straight for breakfast downstairs just as his father was throwing logs onto the firepit. Erik felt his father’s scorn on the back of his neck just as chowed down on sausage and warm wheat meal. His father came around the bar and crossed his arms. Erik stopped chewing and looked at his father.

“Good morning, ‘pa.”, Erik sleepily said, bringing his spoon to this mouth. “You burnt the sausage.”

“You were supposed to be up early and cookin’.”, his father chastised. “You wound me, lad.”

Erik took a mouthful of wheat meal and abandoned the sausage back onto his plate. He looked around to see that the tavern hall had been scrubbed, saved for the chairs and tables still left from last night, but not in such a disarray like before. Aine was nowhere to be seen and Erik assumed she decided to take the morning off to enjoy her singing lover. Mralki took his plate away just as Erik finished his bowl of wheat meal.

“The Dragonborn is outside, if that’s who you’re looking for.”, his father suggested. “She and her guard went out early this morning.”

Erik wiped his mouth on a rag nearby and abandoned his bowl at the counter. He almost knocked the stool over as he rose, but caught it with his leg. He caught his father’s glare, but he didn’t care as he left the inn in a hurry. Outside, the sun was shining up high with not a cloud in sight. Nearby, the children were running up and down the road with their laughter loud and cheery. Erik spotted Ennis tending his goats just as Reldith was talking to merchants unloading their goods nearby. Elsewhere, Erik spotted Aine and her kid sisters bringing linen out to the clotheslines. Their eyes met, but it was Aine who looked away crimsoned.

Erik walked out towards the road with his eyes scanning every face that passed him. After a while, he began to ask did anyone see the Dragonborn, but not even the townspeople knew where she had vanished to. Her escort, Gunthar, was lounging against the animal pen with smoke meat between his large hands. He was still in his armor, but his sword and shield was not equipped. Erik approached him warily as the escort was channeling meat between his teeth. The gigantic Nord stopped his feasting to give Erik a toothy smile.

“Ah! The innkeeper’s son! How are ‘yah?”, Gunthar greeted, abandoning his meat into the pigslop on the other side of the fence. “Hangover?”

“No, actually, but I wanted to ask you.”, Erik began, scanning the village around them. “…have you seen Bethan-I mean, the Dragonborn anywhere?”

Gunthar cusped his chin with his hand and made a ‘hmm’ sound as he thought. Erik shuffled his feet around as the older Nord attempted to recall his memory. He looked down to the young Nord and beamed. He leaned in closer and Erik could feel his hot breath next to his ear.

“A crush on the little Dragonborn, aye?”, Gunthar insinuated. “You’re pretty, you may have a chance.”

“It’s not like that.”, Erik attempted to defend himself, but his ears and cheeks were already staining into a flush pink. “I just wanted to ask about her adventures.”

Gunthar broke out in boisterous laughter just as he did before and patted Erik _hard_ on the back. The young Nord had to struggle to keep his breath from being stolen out of his chest as Gunthar leaned back onto the fortified fence. The pigs eating the slop behind them greedily wheezed and sputtered with their messy noses into the air.

“Aye then.”, Gunthar crossed his arms with a smirk across his aged face. “She’s up there, in the hills.”

Erik turned around to see the amber-colored hills behind them. The grass grew much too high and Sissel and Britte had been forbidden from ever exploring the hill. Even for Erik, with his taller physique, found himself dwarfed in the grass whenever he ventured through it. He thanked Gunthar and quickly made his way across the village and up onto the rocky ridges that caressed the grassy hills.

He was sweating profusely by the time he made it up to the top. He was dirty, much more so as there was mud clinging to the bottom of his boots and trousers. He swept his wind-stricken hair onto his shoulder as he looked across the grassland. He didn’t see the Dragonborn, at least not at first, until he spouted familiar black hair whisk around in the wind. He shouted for her, but the wind only carried his voice the other way. Erik had to sprint to catch up with her.

She was surprised, if not startled upon Erik’s arrival as she nearly threw ice his way. Erik flopped down onto the dirt as he felt the cool streak of ice hover above him. He rose up with his face now stained with dirt, just as the Dragonborn realized who he was. She apologized, profusely, and made sure she didn’t injure him in anyway. He wasn’t, but he never been so excited to see an ice spell.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on me, Erik of Rorikstead.”, the Dragonborn criticized. “I could’ve hit you!”

“It’s alright.”, Erik huffed, trying to rub away the dirt covering his tunic and trousers. “That was impressive, really! I never seen an ice spell before.”

The Dragonborn stood off with her lips creased into a frown, but it softened into a smile. She began to laugh and it was the sweetest noise Erik had yet to listen to. She was dressed not in her elusive robes, but a long, gold-colored dressed with green stitches around the collar, sleeves, and end of her skirts. She didn’t wear a bodice like the many women Erik had seen before and her cleavage gracefully swayed with the rest of her. Erik refused to let himself stare. She swung her long braid over her shoulder and gestured for Erik to sit upon a rock jutting from the tall grass. Erik did as he was told and from her dainty hands, a warm, orange glow emitted from them. Erik felt airy as he began to glow for a few moments and saw the scratches on his hands and forearms close and heal. The glow disappeared from the Dragonborn’s hands and Erik looked at his hands in amazement.

“How’d you do that?”, Erik asked seeing how the scratches didn’t even leave a scar.

“It’s a healing spell, Erik.”, the Dragonborn confessed, curling her fingers towards her palms. “Have you ever seen magic done?”

Erik shook his head. No one in Rorikstead was a mage, and Erik didn’t know any spells. He thought Reldith being an Altmer she knew of a spell or two, but she denied it. He’s read about mages in the many books he would read to Sissel and Britte, but reading was far different than seeing it for himself. The Dragonborn chuckled and sat on the edge of the rock with Erik. Around them the air was warm, not sweltering, and morning insects buzzed between the blades of grass. Erik kept his fingers twiddled in his lap as the Dragonborn began to pick at the blades of grass. Occasionally, she looked over as Erik shied away from her wandering gaze.

“Gunthar must’ve told you I was up here.”, she suggested, looking over her shoulder at the visage that was Rorikstead. “He can have a big mouth sometimes.”

“I didn’t know if it was okay or not.”, Erik replied. “I just wanted to hear about some of your adventures.”

Bethany chuckled and kept playing with the grass. Erik was overly optimistic that the Dragonborn would share a tale or two, without the both of them being swarmed by the townspeople like the day before. His wish came true just as the Dragonborn looked back to him.

“Alright then, Erik of Rorikstead.”, she started. “What tale should I tell you?”

Erik was torn. He heard her exploits through second-hand lips, often drunken lips, and he doubted the information was truly up to par. The Dragon Crisis hadn’t ceased, or the civil war, or even the threat of supernatural forces hunting in the shadows. He didn’t know what he could ask her other than how she knew she was Dragonborn.

“Well, em, mm…”, Erik stuttered, losing his words. “How did you know you were Dragonborn – I mean, dragons didn’t just appear right?”

The Dragonborn nodded.

“The dragons returned just as I came to Skyrim from the Summerset Isles.”, she began, crossing her lithe legs as they sat. “By boat, then by horse, and finally by foot.”

Erik listened attentively. It was beginning to make sense; her attire and accent. She was as foreign to Skyrim as Skyrim was to her.

“Upon entering the southern border, I was laid about by Imperial patrols who had no regard to my status, or nobility.”, the Dragonborn’s tone seemed to shift into irritation upon reiteration of her tale.

“They took me and my belongings about Skyrim, until I was sent to Helgen, a fort-city from what I was told.”, the Dragonborn continued. “Dreadful as the journey was wet, often cold, but never pleasant. I was amongst the many prisoners being carted around Skyrim.”

“I’m sorry they did that to you, milady.”, Erik said. He couldn’t imagine how miserable the soon-to-be Dragonborn was during her ordeal especially upon entering a new land. “Is it true that a dragon attacked Helgen?”

She nodded.

I was to be executed though I challenged my imprisonment. It seemed like the Imperial forces were too occupied with the Stormcloaks they captured to hear my case, until that black, miserable _dovah_ burned Helgen into ash.”

Erik never heard dragon tongue. He wasn’t as educated as some who lived in the major cities and towns, but he was a Nord raised upon the traditions and stories of his ancestors. He recognized the word – _dragon_ , and his heart sunk. He knew Helgen was attacked, but never did he hear that Helgen was burned to the ground. It was a sizeable town with a population triple than what Rorikstead and it pained him to think that everyone who resided there was dead. It made him think of what Rorikstead would become had a dragon decided to put his town to the torch. He pushed those thoughts aside to continue listening to the Dragonborn.

“From there, I escaped with a handful of Stormcloak rebels, and I found respite in a neighboring village. I rested a few days to heal my wounds, and off again I was to your Hold city – Whiterun.”, the Dragonborn rose off the rock as the winds kicked up in intensity.

Her flowing skirts was like the ribbons Erik would tie into his kid sisters’ braids just as her own flowing braid was wind-whip. She looked up to the sky and Erik did the same. It was still the gorgeous blue it always was as not a cloud shielded the sun from its fiery glare. However, the Dragonborn looked to the sky as if she was expecting something. It made Erik inadvertently tense, but the Dragonborn went back to look at him.

“I retrieved an ancient tablet for the Jarl’s court wizard, then a dragon attacked the watchtower, and there I was, face-to-face with a beast that would kill me should I fail to bring it down.”

Erik was on the edge of the rock as he could imagine the fiery battlefield of the ruined watchtower. He’d never been out of Rorikstead, so he didn’t know how damaged the watchtower was, or what it looked like before. He only assumed it had to be a mess with by how the guardsmen from Whiterun described it as they had their ale at the inn.

“It took many arrows and a wayward spell to bring the beast to heel.”

“Did you really bring the dragon down, milady?”, Erik asked. “It’s just they’re so big! Weren’t you scared?”

The Dragonborn shrugged.

“Dragons are naturally terrifying, Erik. They are thrice the size of any man, with fire so hot or ice shivering cold that no mage could conjure.”

“But you killed it, right? That’s how you found out your Dragonborn?”

The Dragonborn nodded again.

“Rendering the soul from the carcass is exhilarating, but painful at the same time. It isn’t as glamorous as the stories make it seem.”

Erik wouldn’t have thought it. Even the stories he was told as a child made it seem the Dragonborn was filled with great strength rendering a dragon’s soul, just like Tiber Septim, and all the Dragonborns before him. Yet when the Dragonborn retold her encounter, she seemed pained, almost unwillingly to continue further. Erik wouldn’t ask her to continue, but he was satisfied learning what truly happened this latest year.

“Is there any other tales you would like to hear, Erik of Rorikstead?”, the Dragonborn asked. “Should I tell you about bandits, giants, or necromancers?”

Erik laughed and shook his head. His interest had been piqued for now. He wouldn’t harass the Dragonborn any further unless he thought of something. Yet he couldn’t abstain his eyes from her form. The fabric, though rich and sown by the most delicate of hands, did nothing to shield her female frame. Erik made out the curve of her breasts, the dark nipples they sported, and he could make out the shape of her waist. He remembered how she looked the night before; her dark hair down her nether region, the curve of her ass, and the slight plumpness to her stomach. Erik began to eat at his inner cheek as the Dragonborn stared at him underneath topaz eyes.

His encounter with Aine gave him confidence should he lay with a woman again, he had the experience to not make himself an utter fool, but he was mad if he thought he could lay with the Dragonborn. Gunthar already suggested he had a crush on her, but he was starting to think it was more of an obsession. His mind clouded with hazy, lust-riddled perversions just as clouds began to overcast the blistering sun. The Dragonborn must’ve understood his thoughts, or at least interpreted them in some special way, and shielded her lips with the back of her hand.

“What would your lover think of you, Erik of Rorikstead?”, the Dragonborn teased, pointing over towards Rorikstead. “How you seduced the Dragonborn into your arms?”

Erik was no seducer, nor was a charmer, and he couldn’t persuade not even a goat to kiss him. He was clumsy with words just as he was pouring ale. He knew not a pick-up line could he brand himself like a suave courtier. He was about awkward as a newborn fowl. The relationship he had was Aine was sexual, or better yet Aine had sensed he was inexperience and gave him something he could hope for before growing old in Rorikstead. The Dragonborn seemed not to care as her dress was peeled off her bronzed skin and left it pooled into the tall grass. Erik swallowed hard as he took in the Dragon’s physique. He studied her from her eyes, down to her breasts, to her nether regions and beyond.

He was tented in his trousers long before the Dragonborn straddled him upon the rock. A good kind of nervousness came over him just like had with Aine as the Dragonborn was dwarfed on top of him. He could smell the wildflowers off her and feel how smooth had skin had been. Unlike Erik, she bathed regularly which made her skin soft and guarded from Skyrim’s harsh climate.

“I don’t have a lover.” Erik confessed. “I just have friends.”

The Dragonborn didn’t seem to believe him as her hand snaked into his oily, sweaty hair. She grabbed a fistful and forced Erik’s head back. His throat was exposed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. Her tongue grazed the stubbly, warm skin of his neck Erik shivered. It was oddly intimate to be held by his hair by such a domineering force. Her tongue was hot, unlike Aine’s who was tepid and cool on the skin. The Dragonborn herself felt much warmer than anyone Erik had embraced. He kept his hands onto her back as she licked, nibbled, and ultimately bit at his skin. Her bites broke skin and drew blood, but it was a pleasant pain Erik didn’t mind. Her ministrations were far different than Aine’s.

The Dragonborn’s other hand found solace into untying the laces of his trousers and freed his straining manhood. Erik groaned as she finished assaulting his neck with teeth and tongue to give his cock a look. She seemed elated as the reddened flesh of his cockhead blushed darkly. She let his head go to unequip herself from his lap. She looked behind her and her hand illuminated with a warm, orange haze. She swiped her hand outwards and the grass around them shriveled into burnt buds. Her other hand became a cool blue as ice wafted over the warm embers. Erik watched in both lust and amazement. The Dragonborn ushered Erik to lay where the tall grass had once covered the ground. He did as he was bid and laid onto the softened dirt.

The ground was cool even for the time of day as the Dragonborn loomed over him. His eyes darted to the darkness surrounding her sex and he didn’t realize he was starting to pant. His cock was unattended and greedy to feel relief. However, the Dragonborn seemed to take her time lowering herself down onto his chest, bringing her warming sex closer to Erik’s chin, and ultimately lowering herself upon the bow of his upper lip. Instinctively, Erik opened his mouth to slobber his tongue amongst her folds, which in turn, earned him a purr from the Dragonborn above him. His arms kept her held underneath her plump ass just as she leaned forward over him. In this position, his mouth found access to the entirety of her sex. He licked and prodded her folds and the pelt around them.

“Don’t be naïve, Erik of Rorikstead.”, the Dragonborn sighed above him. “I’m the Dragonborn, remember?”

Erik hummed and began to lick in earnest. Her personality had flipped in the matter of moments – first, she was reluctant to show her face, but now she was commandeering. He began to wonder if it was a ruse to stray potential lovers away, or draw them into her façade of innocent, but nevertheless Erik was granted bliss between her legs. As the Dragonborn writhed above him, he was more eager to finish her and his cock desperately desired the attention it lusted for. However, his head was forced backwards and the Dragonborn straddled with both her legs on either side of his face. His lips was brought away from her drooling sex as she hovered. Her cheeks had taken a dark rouge to them, much more present down her neck and onto her chest.

Her breasts, though not as round and developed like Aine’s, still piqued Erik’s attention and just as he reached to place a delicate, browned nipple into his mouth, he was denied by the Dragonborn pushing his head back down. He grunted, just as he felt the blood swimming around in his ears. The Dragonborn chastised him just as she brought her cunt back to his mouth.

“Again.”, she ordered. “Or I’ll deny you release.”

Erik furrowed his brows, but his tongue shot out his mouth to encase her nub into his mouth. He suckled until his cheeks hollowed out and the Dragonborn on top of his buckled and whined. At the cost of the threat, he made a show by having her rock and grind onto his lips and chin. His manhood leaked angrily onto his stomach as the breeze coming off the grassland tickled him. He didn’t see where the Dragonborn had conjured a midst of blue and violet in her hand. However, he did feel a tightening, constrictive grip on his cock which promptly stopped his tongue riveting between her folds. He groaned and grunted as the grip became tighter, and it was getting harder to keep his mouth upon her dripping cunt.

“Do you want release?”, the Dragonborn asked, her breasts heaving up and down as she rode Erik’s face. “Tell me, Erik of Rorikstead, do you want release?”

Erik nodded feverishly as he moaned and swallowed the juices flooding out from the Dragonborn on top of him. She tasted much different than Aine, like another palate he was supposed to savor and critique like fine wines and cheeses. He wholeheartedly licked and slurped the Dragonborn’s folds as he felt his cock crushed by the grip. He screamed into his cunt just as she was brought to fruition – her orgasm quiet, hid behind a finger she bit upon. Yet Erik was panting and drawing in harsh breaths as he was in a fit of lust. The Dragonborn eased herself from Erik’s face and onto the dirt beside him to take inventory of the bindings she had casted onto his sobbing cock. He watched as the blue-violet purple bands acted like a tight collar to strangle his orgasm.

She chuckled and carefully teased the slit of his cock with her long, warm finger. Erik nearly choked as she teased him mercilessly. In the back of his mind, he was glad they were far away from Rorikstead with only a single soul knowing of their location because he was sure he could heard from every hilltop, valley, and crevice around them. The Dragonborn flicked her other hand and the grip loosened around his manhood. Erik sighed, but was alarmed once he felt a tinge of coldness enrapturing around him. He looked to the Dragonborn with wide eyes and she only smiled.

“It’s early in the day, Erik of Rorikstead.”, she comments, guiding her eyes up to the sky. “We have time to savor this, yes?”

Erik nodded, but his eyes began to plead with her to bring him sweet release. His erection was beginning to pain him as the coldness settled in and the grip remained. The Dragonborn brought herself closer to his erection and darted her tongue swiftly across his choked cock. His fingers made long rake-like marks into the dark just as the Dragonborn licked, prodded, and massaged his cock just as he had done to her cunt. She alternated between conjuring the cold and loosening to conjured grip until Erik begged her was sobbing eyes and chattering teeth.

“Okay, okay, I understand.”, the Dragonborn cooed, now taking his freed cock into her small hands. “I won’t tease you so.”

Sweat pooled on his face just as the Dragonborn, in one swift, almost devilish movement, swallowed him from root to stem. The sensation was immaculate as his cock was swallowed and gagged upon with the Dragonborn piercing her stare up to him. Erik was not short, or was he skinny in regards to his length, but the Dragonborn was an expert swallowing and throating him down to the base of his sex. She proceeded to hollow her cheeks and keep Erik sheathed in her throat, doing so several times, until Erik was praying to all the Divines with flapping lips. But before he could release his pearly bounty into the Dragonborn’s orifice, the familiar grip strangled him at the base of his penis. He groaned and looked to the Dragonborn with worry as she straddled his waist once again. Her fingers trailed down her dark forest of hair and into her folds. They slopped around in her essence and the act of it drove Erik over. Yet, he couldn’t release with his cock strangled by her conjuration magic.

“Tell me, Erik.”, the Dragonborn started, her other hand cusping her breast and flicking over her nipple. “Have you ever wondered what dragon souls feel like?”

He didn’t, couldn’t, but he wanted nothing more to find heaven in plowing into the warm caresses of the folds above her. He licked his lips to find them still tasting of her musk. He shook his head as his chest bellowed from his exhale. He couldn’t think straight. His hips buckled upwards to drive home, but he was only humping the flesh of her thigh as the Dragonborn kept her sex away from his cock. He pathetically tried to rub and strain himself against the plumpness of his thigh only to find relief escaping him. She held a snicker back as Erik was like a rutting animal in heat.

“I’ll let you feel them.”, the Dragonborn slowly lowered herself onto Erik’s manhood.

Although he was hard, he couldn’t penetrate the Dragonborn like this. The head of his cock split her lips apart, but he didn’t enter the Dragonborn as he did with Aine. She was forcing him to lie there as his cockhead could only press against her folds. It was long, passing moments until the Dragonborn fully seated her small frame onto his cock. It felt like static striking up and down his spine as the engulfing heat spurred his cock harder. Erik was panting just as the Dragonborn leaned over him with both her arms and hands on the sides of his face. Her ass was high in the air like two fleshy globes. She looked behind herself to glance at her buttocks before looking back down at Erik.

It felt as if a thousand suns was rendering his cock into ash. She felt tighter, overwhelming, and different than anything else he encountered. She didn’t move immediately until she heard Erik whimper and dig his fingernails into the flesh of her ass. She obliged by setting the pace to be hard, fast, and true. Her hips snapped downwards just as Erik rolled his own, overzealously attempting to strike her in return. He felt the glands of his penis swell and ache as the conjured grip was unrelentless in its chokehold. The Dragonborn was calculated in her bounces as at some points, she savored and milked Erik inside of herself. As her own orgasm was building, she would accelerate to the point Erik would sometimes be unsheathed from her, not for long, but it was a brutal pace.

The clouds above them was high in the sky by the time the Dragonborn cried into her orgasm, her thighs shaking, her mouth drooling. Erik was beyond the point of return as his head swirled with lust. His hand had left blossoming prints onto her ass as the conjured grip dissolved from his sex and he was allowed to squirt his spunk within the Dragonborn. She rested against his chest as filled her to the brim. When she withdrew her battered sex from his rod, his cock rested into the groove of her ass. He slowly caught his breath just as the Dragonborn on top of him did. She was small in his arms, but the sex that they had was nothing but miniscule. Once she had caught her breath, she rolled off him to lay beside him in the dirt.

He looked over to her with hazy, iced eyes and smiled. He reached to caress stray hairs from her face and she leaned into the touch. His cock was cooled by the rolling winds just as the slick on his thighs. However, the Dragonborn seemed not to be finished as she adjusted herself with her stomach onto the ground and her buttocks pinned upwards. She gave Erik a salacious glare, and he accepted her challenge. He rose shakily onto her knees with feeling returning to them as blood circulated through his legs. He positioned himself behind her slightly intimidated by her prostrated like this. He thought he was dreaming, or somehow in a state of purgatory, yet the visage of the Dragonborn underneath him said otherwise. She looked back at him with softened eyes.

“Don’t be afraid, Erik.”, she cooed, slipping her hand backwards to spread her folds. “They can’t breathe fire anymore.”

With reassurance in mind, the Nord steeled himself. Erik held his cock in his hand and lightly tapped and prodded her buttocks, painting them with his loving liquids, before breaching her guarded slit. The entrance was smooth, but gradual as the Dragonborn was split by the girth of his manhood. She shivered and buckled as she was entered, but Erik kept a firm hand on the small of her back. While he was sheathed inside, he took inventory of how she felt. She felt as if she was on fire from a thousand pyres as the glowing gold tinged around his eyes entranced him to set a brutal fucking pace.

He raised himself off his knees for a better angle as he was rough, almost forceful in his pace as the Dragonborn was made smaller underneath his physique. She was grunting, as if she was being stabbed over by a hot blade, but she kept his posture as Erik drilled her from behind. It wasn’t enough for the Nord as he withdrew with only his cockhead held between her slit, then slammed back inside.

The Dragonborn cried into the dirt and twisted her fist into the dirt as Erik continued his onslaught of frenzied thrusts. He only slowed when his knees grew weary from exertion and he proceeded to sit upon the back of his thighs. He pulled her back into the cusp of his legs and continued the fuck.

The Dragonborn seemed exerted by the time Erik finished again inside her, but still wide-eyed as midday was upon them. He drained himself inside her and unsheathed from her sex, finding great interest in watching how his seed dripped out in heavy globs. Without thinking, he swung his calloused hand down onto her plump cheek which earned him a strangled moan. His eyebrows rose as the Dragonborn fidgeted from the blow. He did it once, twice, then thrice and the Dragonborn was dripping once again.

The third time he finished, he was totally spent. Unrestrained by her constrictive magic, Erik had pumped his seed until his balls had begun to yowl in exhaustion. The Dragonborn was laid on her back with her cunt stained white from Erik. Her nostrils flared with every inhale, but she was smiling. Erik was too, out of content, and also out of the sheer sight in front of him. Not once in a dream, or a prayer, would he ever think he’d encounter women in this way, let alone the Dragonborn of legend. He thought of Dibella playing a cruel trick on him. Yet, it was bliss as he watched the Dragonborn finger and prod his essence within her bloomed petals.

He went for his clothing somewhere abandoned on the ground whilst looking for her own dress. With his cock well-tamed and redressed into his trousers, he helped the Dragonborn redress. She stole kisses from his lips as he tied her laces, and he couldn’t help but grope and squeeze her breasts into his hands. She allowed him to do so until his hands snaked back underneath her dress.

“Surely our presence has been missed.”, the Dragonborn jested, pointing to how the townspeople in the nearby fields were beginning to return for lunch. “At least mine.”

Erik withdrew his hand.

“My father will be angry with me.”, Erik added. “Amongst other things.”

“Other things?”, the Dragonborn asked, undoing her braid and allowing her darkened locks to sway into the wind. “Tell me.”

Erik couldn’t drop all of his concerns onto the Dragonborn – it wasn’t her place to deal with father-son rabbling. He did, however, thought if the Dragonborn could convince his father into letting him leave Rorikstead, even for a short period. He could go to work in Whiterun, or better yet become a Companion. Whiterun seemed to be a world away, but until today the Dragonborn was a universe. The notion teased upon the tip of his tongue as the Dragonborn stared at him. He relented.

“I’d like to leave Rorikstead – not forever, but just to see the world.”, he confessed, kicking a stray pebble by his feet. “But I know ‘pa won’t let me go.”

The Dragonborn purred in his embrace and moved his coiled hair behind his ears.

“And if I convince him to let you go, we’ll see this world together, yes?”, the Dragonborn asked. “Oh please say yes, and I’ll make sure Gunthar isn’t too hard on you.”

Erik laughed into the crook of her neck and inhaled her musky sweet scent. He could grow drunk upon the smell had the Dragonborn not usher him away. He was beyond jubilant. If the Dragonborn convinced his father into letting him journey away from Rorikstead, the possibilities was endless. He could learn a trade, or swordsmanship, or keep warm with the Dragonborn by his side.

They walked down the hill with Erik still attempting to steal grabs and pinches of her plump frame. She would bat his hand away the closer they got back to town. Gunthar was still posted at the animal pen with more meat clutched between his greasy fingers. When he spotted Erik and the Dragonborn, he had a grin from ear to ear. Erik made sure not to meet him in the eyes as the Dragonborn led him back to the Frostfruit Inn. Once inside, the Dragonborn left upstairs to change while Erik waited for her downstairs.

He anticipated her return just as his father came from the basement with a crate of bottles trapped between his arms. He furrowed his brows at his son and was about to verbally lash him until the Dragonborn returned downstairs in a changed dress. He respectfully bowed and greeted the Dragonborn.

“Ah, Dragonborn, I didn’t know you were still here.”, Mralki admitted, abandoning the lecture he saved for his son.

“Yes for one more night, I’m afraid. The road to Markarth is often riddled with troubled weather.”, the Dragonborn said eyeing back to Erik. “Before I depart, I’d like to ask you a favor if I can, sir.”

Mralki almost dropped the case right where he stood as his face lightened into surprise. He ushered for the Dragonborn to take a seat at the counter and she dutifully did so with Erik on her heels. Mralki poured her a goblet of cool water and she graciously accepted the drink. Erik felt anxious as he watched his father excitedly tend to the Dragonborn. She took a few more sips and pushed the goblet away with her finger.

“Anything I can do for you, Dragonborn, I’ll make it true.”, his father confessed. “You have my sincerest gratitude for protecting us.”

The Dragonborn smiled and held onto Erik’s hand. The Nord nearly broke into a puddle of cool sweat as his father noticed and a worried look conveyed on his face.

“I’d like to ask you if I could take your son, Erik of Rorikstead, to Whiterun to attend an apprenticeship with the Companions.”, she asked, looking up to Erik with her beautiful eyes.

Mralki hesitated and tapped his finger along the ale-polished bar counter. Erik has lived with his father for many years and knew when he was contemplating subjects. His forehead would crinkle, and his eyes grew tight. His upper lip would twitch, and he would begin to mumble, but his father did none of those things as he eyed his son and the Dragonborn down.

His father surrendered and shrugged his shoulders.

“I’d never say yes if I didn’t think he would be safe.”, Mralki confessed. “But if you can vouch for his safety, I’ll accept it.”

The Dragonborn nodded and reached her hand out from Erik’s clutches. Mralki shook it once, twice, and on the third time he released her small hand. Erik went to his father behind the counter and wrapped his grizzly arms around his much skinner patriarch. He had tears welling in his eyes as his father returned the embrace. He never wanted anything more, but he would thank his father a thousand different ways with the fame and fortune he would bring to Rorikstead. He let his father go just as the Dragonborn finished her water and Gunthar entering the inn.

“Aye, innkeep, do you have any more of that smoked venison?”, the escort asked just as he saw the Dragonborn at the counter.

He politely bowed to the Dragonborn and apologized to Mralki. The innkeeper nodded and went to retrieve the delicious, peppered meat the escort drooled over. Erik stole a kiss from the Dragonborn as he was quick to race upstairs and into his room. There was much to pack, or least he thought as he dug for the knapsack he had bought many moons ago. He opened his bedroom trunk to retrieve his clothes, and most importantly, the longsword he hid away from his father. It hadn’t been used since Erik bought it and the blade was insanely sharp. He kept it wrapped in hide and hid it underneath his knapsack.

Back downstairs, the Dragonborn was still talking with his father just as Gunthar began to feast on another helping of venison. Erik was smiling from ear to ear as he joined the Dragonborn at the counter. She was laughing, joking even, and a far different person then their first introduction. Her hand returned to Erik’s lap, teasing dangerously, and Erik kept himself restrained from his father’s all-knowing eyes and Gunthar’s senses.

The Dragonborn retired for an early bath and a nap just as Mralki sent Erik to work before his eventual departure from Rorikstead. He was to tend the stable, rearrange the basement, and tend to the needs of what he asked of. Erik did so with a pep to his step, going over and beyond to perform charity, even helping the harvest workers rake in the harvest of the day. It wasn’t till later in the night did Erik join the Dragonborn again in her suite, helping her repack her belongings.

Gunthar had long since packed his own gear and resettled his beast of a stallion in the stable. Erik couldn’t hardly wait for the morning as he brought the Dragonborn’s belongings from upstairs and down into the tavern. His father eyed him, not with his familiar sternness, but with acceptance. He must’ve anticipated the day Erik would eventually leave, and the Nord couldn’t help but the hug his father again behind the bar.

“I promise, father, I’ll write to you often as I can.”, Erik said, his own eyes watering. “And I’ll come home as much as you want.”

“Now, now, Erik – I thought you wanted to leave the nest.”, his father said comforting him. “You go out there and make a name of yourself, hm?”

With his father’s blessings, Erik returned upstairs and crawled into bed with the Dragonborn. He breathed in her heavenly sweet scent wafting off her and wrapped his entire body around her small stature. She curled outwards towards him with the curve of her bottom fitting the groove of his waist. The night turned late as they slept in each other’s embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment, kudos, and bookmarks below and I'll see you again for another update.


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik gets his chance to leave Rorikstead with the help of the Dragonborn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, proof-read and formatted to the best of my ability. I hope for the day Word decides to act right when I decide to repost onto AO3.
> 
> The next work I may post involves Miraak and Herma-Mora, just not too sure about the content I'm wanting to write with that. In the mean time, enjoy this last (almost wholesome) ending to this. Hope you enjoyed it.

IV

* * *

Erik was the first to wake with the Dragonborn underneath him. She was peacefully asleep with only her soft breaths warming onto Erik’s forearm. Though he awake and wide-eyed, he was pinned by the Dragonborn’s head onto his arm. She was sleeping so well he didn’t want to wake her, but he knew it was morning by the sound of the songbirds chirping outside their window and the familiar shuffling of feet and harvest equipment across the dirt. He calmed himself and laid there with his free hand stroking circles into the Dragonborn’s thigh. She sighed and only snuggled closer into Erik. He quietly huffed and an idea came across him. He rose slightly to see how the Dragonborn was sleeping before his hand snaked along her thigh and underneath her. He felt from the familiar, warm passage that was her cunt and he was met with a hand swatting at him.

However, he persisted until his fingers wettened the slit he’d grown infatuated with. The Dragonborn threw her leg towards Erik and he caught and pinned it with his weight. Her eyes were beginning to flutter open as Erik piston his fingers smoothly from in and out her warming folds. She threw her head over to the side to find his gaze, but only opened her mouth to mewl into his arm. He continued till he was convinced she was soddened enough to take him at the root. He fixed himself to penetrated her from the side, much to the Dragonborn’s unwillingness to wake up. With a smooth intrusion, Erik had her pinned to his body and angled at a position that made her shudder in every thrust. It would be quick work bringing him to climax as he needed not all the time of the morning to fill her. His fingers dug into her thighs as they fucked.

Her teats jolted with every thrust Erik penetrated her with. His hand abandoned its grip from her thigh to suffocate her modest breast into his palm. He rolled the flesh just as her nipple strained from between his fingers. Although she was drowsy, even asleep at some points during their lovemaking, her sounds were beautiful and strung like lute strings. Erik stole open-mouthed kisses from her with his tongue wrapping and exploring her mouth. His cock began to ache as his release was upon him. He emboldened his rapid stabs as he was reaching as far as he could inside the little Dragonborn. Her pants became strangled cries as Erik was in by the hilt, pressing that area inside that made her toes curl and pussy clench.

She began to wake up much to Erik’s finish and sighed as Erik spilled himself inside. She laughed sleepily and began to fix the darkened blonde hair glued to her lover’s brow. Erik rode the last of his orgasm as his cock slipped free from within. The Dragonborn looked down to inspect his work, but seemingly unfazed by the cum slobbering from her sex. Erik knew the basics of how children were made, and he was solely responsible in that regard, but the Dragonborn did not once forbade him from coating her insides with his seed. He shamelessly enjoyed seeing himself salivate from her folds.

They untangled themselves and the Dragonborn cleaned and redressed herself back into the flowing robes she sported upon arrival in Rorikstead. She tied her hair up high and tucked it underneath her hood. He dressed in his warmest doublet and trousers, and equipped his feet with light traveling boots. Erik made sure to grab the knapsack he packed and tucked his long sword underneath his arm. Downstairs, Aine was serving breakfast to their early morning patrons. She spotted Erik and the Dragonborn hand in hand and curtsied.

“Good morning, m’lady.”, Aine greeted as the Dragonborn took a sliced loaf of bread from the long table.

The Dragonborn bowed as she shoved the bread into her mouth just as Erik greeted his father washing flagons out. Aine gave him a passing stare, but it didn’t linger as she served her hungry patrons. Erik felt embarrassed, but he gave his father one last longing embrace before him and the Dragonborn went outside.

All of Rorikstead seemed to be outside as townspeople watched Erik and the Dragonborn go towards the stables. They said their goodbyes in passing as many of them had harvests to collect while others like Sissel and Britte only waved sadly. Inside, the Dragonborn’s horse waited patiently with a saddle already strapped onto its back along with the chest she had brought. She hesitated to grab the horse’s reins as before, the horse nearly knocked her off and into the dirt. Erik took initiative and gently grabbed the horse’s reins earning a snort from the grey-colored mare. Almost like magic, the horse allowed Erik to escort it out of the stable with the Dragonborn following behind. Erik was the first to climb into the saddle and he gestured the Dragonborn to sit between the space of his legs.

She sheepishly climbed into the saddle and rested her back against Erik’s torso. Gunthar was already onto the road with his stallion neighing nosily, possibly impatient, and the escort had his breakfast half-eaten in his free hand.

“Let’s get going while the sun’s up! Whiterun is a day’s ride from here!”, Gunthar announced as he dug his heels into his stallion’s side. The horse responded by raising up on it’s powerful hind legs and galloping away from the townspeople.

Erik brought their own mare to a gentle gallop as he passed his friends, and ultimately his father as he stood on the inn’s porch. He gave a wave and his father beamed. Everyone in Rorikstead followed them far out of town before returning to their humble work. The Dragonborn held the reins over Erik’s hands as they rode. She was laughing as the horse heeded Erik’s commands better than hers. In the distance, Gunthar was ahead of them with his stallion wildly sprinting along the paved cobbled rode. In this very moment, Erik was filled with awe he’d never felt before. Rorikstead had been his entire world until the Dragonborn came, and in the two days she spent here, she inevitably changed all Erik knew about the world. He would want to continue journeying with her, long after he completed his apprenticeship with the Companions, should she have him.

* * *

The journey to Whiterun was pleasant as the warming winds of the grasslands passed over them. The hillsides that enraptured them on both sides were free of dangers, only the occasional deer would watch their progression. Erik was in awe as he took in the beauty that was the Whiterun hold as the Dragonborn remained focused on maintaining her seat upon the saddle. He wouldn’t have let her fall, especially not with his burly thighs encasing her, but it was cute seeing how such the mighty Dragonborn was afraid of horseback riding.

Along the way, the Dragonborn told Erik of the many landmarks along the way. She pointed out giant settlements, tucked gingerly behind pines, with mammoths shuffling their massive legs across the grassland. Erik watched them with child-like intensity, but the Dragonborn cooed him away from staring at the giants shepherding their wooly flock.

“They don’t like to be stared at, even from here.”, she pointed to how the giant wielding his club just meters off the road seemed discouraged at Erik’s stare.

Erik nodded and returned his gaze to the open road. Gunthar had slowed his stallion as they were only feet away in distance. His bald head shined with the morning sun and the Dragonborn pointed out how her escort looked like a glossed apple. That earned some stifled laughter from the both as Gunthar was oblivious to their jokes. Their journey lasted hours more just as Whiterun became ever so closer to them. The settlements that had sprouted alongside the road interested Erik as many people, just like in Rorikstead, had flocked, and flourished with the prosperity the Hold enjoyed. He smelled fresh baked loaves caked with fruits nearby and heard the grinding of axes along a grindstone. Children played while their mothers ushered them to slow as the Dragonborn passed. Everyone seemed aware and conditioned to the Dragonborn’s passing a scene didn’t happen like it did in Rorikstead.

It was up to the large gates of Whiterun did the Dragonborn usher him to stop the horse. He gently kicked the horse’s side and brought her to standstill. Gunthar had stopped ahead of him. She looked up and peered up to Erik. He lowered his chin with a puzzled look.

“Upon my return from Markarth, I’d like to lay with you again.”, she confessed, reaching her hand to tickle the growing stubble on Erik’s chin. He laughed and gave her a kiss upon the bridge of her nose. He carefully dismounted the horse as the mare seemed to be disappointed that her favored rider dismounted.

The Dragonborn was sure to grab the reins to keep the horse still as Erik took his knapsack and longsword from the saddle. He gave a reassuring pat to the horse’s side as he walked to the gates. Gunthar wished him good fortune and turned his stallion back. Erik looked at the incredibly immaculate, but intimidating gates of Whiterun as the Dragonborn looked back at him.

“I’ll see you again, Erik of Rorikstead.”, the Dragonborn echoed as she turned the mare about. Much to her surprise, the mare did as she was told.

“Safe travels, Bethany.”, her name was sweet on his tongue and she hid her blush as she brought her mare to a gallop. She was soon side-by-side with Gunthar and they became only specks in the distant grassland.

Erik took a deep breath as Whiterun was opened to him. His eyes, wide and starstruck, took in the bustling scene ahead of him just as his heart urged him inside. Here he would find his fame and fortune, just as his father urged to do, and Rorikstead prepared him for. He would bide his time performing deeds amongst the people with the promise that he would be embraced in a loving caress upon the Dragonborn’s return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Stay safe and wash your hands. I'll see you again in the next work.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this based loosely off my play throughs with my Dragonborn, but I don't know if I want to make this an actual story or keep this as a collection of NSFW fics involving her and various characters in Skyrim. I stole most of the tags from older kinktober (?) posts I pulled up from the internet. Conflicted, but nevertheless, I hope everyone has enjoyed the content and I'll see you again (one of these days). 
> 
> Word is a bit dumb with my formatting and spell check. I did my best to check over everything before posting, but this is still readable - I promise.
> 
> ★彡 If you like to see any other pairings/tags, shoot a comment below and I'll get to it as fast as I can. I'm still working on other things (such as Kindred), so my time is preoccupied.  
> ★彡 I have a Curious Cat and Tumblr linked to my profile in case you want to send something there


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